


Dazzle Me

by sparxwrites



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Constipation, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Love Confessions, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2016-08-18
Packaged: 2018-08-09 14:54:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7806220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparxwrites/pseuds/sparxwrites
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why do you do these things for me, darling?” asks Vex, one day, when they’re perched on the edge of the wall that surrounds the rooftop garden of the Whitestone skyscraper. The words are nearly whipped away in the wind that howls with surprising strength fifty stories up up, something more than idle curiosity in her voice, but Percy hears them nonetheless.</p>
<p>(In which Percy keeps giving Vex gifts, and Vex wants an explanation.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dazzle Me

**Author's Note:**

> more modern au stuff - is it the same modern au? we just don’t know - with perc’ahlia this time, because i haven’t written anything for these two yet and i need to, because they’re So Good. written to “90210 (acoustic)” by blackbear, and “dazzle me” by oh wonder (hence the title), because they’re both Very vex songs.

“Why do you do these things for me, darling?” asks Vex, one day, when they’re perched on the edge of the wall that surrounds the rooftop garden of the Whitestone skyscraper. The words are nearly whipped away in the wind that howls with surprising strength fifty stories up up, something more than idle curiosity in her voice, but Percy hears them nonetheless.

The high New York midday sun, watery through the early summer clouds, lights her the deep brown of her face golden and her hair raven blue-black – and Percy wonders for the hundredth time how she can possibly think she doesn't look like she comes from money. Even in ripped jeans and one of her brother’s faded band tees, she looks like a princess, a goddess, effortlessly beautiful and elegant in a way most of de Rolos’ family friends could only dream of. “Not that I don't appreciate all the pretty clothes and finery, of course, but…”

There's a note of uncertainty to her voice that he hates, but he doesn't have a good answer. He offers her a quirk of his lips, instead, a one-shouldered half-shrug. “Can't I just enjoy seeing you happy?” he says, mildly, dropping his eyes to where his shaking fingers are tracing patterns against the concrete top of the low wall. “Because I do, you know – enjoy seeing you happy, that is. I enjoy it a lot. And if my little, ah, gifts and trinkets can make you happy, then… why wouldn’t I?”

He’s never been a good liar, even if this is _technically_ a half-truth, and Vex has always been far better at reading the shifts and creases of his face than she has any right to be. He’s not surprised when she squints at him, crosses her arms, and purses her lips. 

“Percy,” she asks, voice quiet, the hair that's fallen loose from her braid whipping across her face in the wind like coils of smoke. The urge to reach out and tuck a stray, half-curled wisp of it back behind her ear is nearly overwhelming “Do you- do you _love_ me?”

The question makes the bottom drop out of his stomach, his _world_ , and he's not a good answer for that, either – but he feels, perhaps, that it deserves more than a shrug.

“Love’s a big word, darling,” he says, because it’s true, because it _is_. Because he’s not quite sure what to say, but because she deserves _something_ other than silence filled with his own quiet confusion and fear.

_Darling_. It's her word, but it rolls off his tongue so _easily_ , like it's supposed to be there when he's talking about her – the messy braid of her hair tugged into order by her brother, the bitten-short curves of her nails, the way her lips twitch when she's trying not to smile at one of Scanlan’s jokes. Everything seems easy when he’s with her, seems safe and right and _natural_ in a way he’s still trying to get his head round, and it’s almost dizzying.

“That's not an _no_ ,” she points out, drumming her fingers on the warm concrete. “Is it?” She stares at him, all dark eyes and an intensity of heat that makes his blood boil in his veins.

“No,” he agrees, a little breathless, unable to look away. “No, it's not.”

There's a pause, for a long moment, where Percy tries to remember what it is to stand on solid ground. It's surprisingly difficult. Giddy and several hundred feet up, perched on the edge of a skyscraper’s roof with his feet touching thin air, is a dangerous place to be – but then again Percy’s never had a good sense of self preservation, so it's hardly a surprise that he's not starting now.

Staring into Vex’s eyes, he thinks, is a little like drowning. Like that split-second moment where the water rushes in and the burn in his chest _stops_ and everything goes soft and hazy round the edges. Like he can’t breathe.

“Darling,” says Vex – and if the word sounds easy on his tongue, it's almost poetry on hers, like it was made for her lips and no one else’s – and smiles. “This is where you're supposed to ask me if I love _you_.”

“…Do you?” he asks, trying for mild curiosity and managing a trembling sort of uncertainty. He holds his breath, closes his eyes, slides his hand towards hers along the flat of the low wall in a trust-fall – and when their fingers touch, he knows what it's like to fall and not hit the ground. To fly.

She leans in, fingers curling around his, skin dry and warm against his calluses and scars. “Darling,” she breathes, lips an inch from his ear, and he _trembles_ with it, shakes all the way to his core. “Love’s such an _incredibly_ big word.”

He wants to laugh, or maybe cry, but he settles for swaying dizzily sideways until they're pressed cheek-to-cheek, her lips against his ear and his eyelashes against her temple. “That's not a no,” he says, echoing her as she had done him just moments ago, because trying to find his own words is too enormous a task to even contemplate right now.

“No,” she agrees, something between amusement and amazement in her voice. The word catches in the back of her throat, a soft stutter of breath, and when he squeezes her fingers a little tighter she presses her cheek more firmly against his like she’s scared he’s going to disappear. “No, it's definitely not.”

“I-” starts Percy, and then quiets, squeezing her fingers again and tipping his head just so until his lips are against her skin, chapped and cracked against the softness of it. It's hard to find the words, and for a long moment he just _breathes_ , stirring the loose hairs escaping her braid with every exhalation. “I don't know about you, but… but I can work with _not a no_.”

She _does_ laugh at that, a wet noise that hitches in her chest, the shake of her shoulders moving him where he’s leant against him. “Oh, Percival,” she says, presses her lips to his skin as well and revels in the way he leans into the slightest of touches like he's a compass needle and she's magnetic north. “Oh, _darling_. I can _definitely_ work with that.”


End file.
